


Communion in the Pines

by BrokeTheGames



Series: Anon and Stolas: Idiots of a Feather [3]
Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Demonic Prince clearly has a crush, Eldritch Rituals, Guns solve problems, Local idiot suffers because of Horrors beyond Comprehension, Made-up Botany, Other, dwindling sanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 04:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokeTheGames/pseuds/BrokeTheGames
Summary: Having received a month's vacation, you decide to go on a camping trip with your friend Stolas Goetia to relax from your stressful life.Absolutely nothing else happens.
Relationships: Stolas Goetia & Reader
Series: Anon and Stolas: Idiots of a Feather [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181657
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Communion in the Pines

**Author's Note:**

> Story thing for /hhg/ to celebrate thread 666. Because we're all mature adults, or some shit.

A month.

A full, uninterrupted month of vacation; away from work, coworkers and your boss that absolutely deserved to burn in hell. Granted, it had been a result of a legal investigation into money embezzling and other low-brow things you didn’t understand or want to remember, but that wasn’t any of your concern.

The first day off had been taken slow, lazily; sleeping in until the sun spilling in from your window forced you awake. After that it had been a matter of slowly going about doing mundane chores, laundry, dishes, before eventually moving onto things you had neglected due to work.

Out came your rifle, which you took to cleaning with great care; you’d be damned if you let Moxxie have the upper-hand in your next shooting competition.

Then came the sword for practice; as much as you enjoyed swinging the thing around, you’re pretty sure the only reason Stolas actually had gotten you it is because Millie probably harassed the poor bird until he did.

Lastly was yet another attempt to clean up the godawful, drunken drawing that Blitzo had done last month, which you had covered up by moving your recliner. Half an hour of scrubbing had gotten most of the horse -you assume it’s a horse, though it had five leg- which was, in your book, good enough.

All that time doing what you had enjoyed, and you still felt more alive than if you had spent the day at work.

So when the clock struck nine, and the bird of the night showed up in your kitchen, he was pleasantly surprised to notice just how much energy you had. “There’s a bit of life in you, tonight; anything special, perhaps, Anon?”

A shrug of your shoulders as you focus on keeping the food in front of you from burning- easier said than done when a certain bird drapes himself over you with faux emotion- “Work ended up being called off for a Month. Something about embezzling and the CEO being murdered.”

You do your best to suppress a shudder, the image of what was once a man flashing through your mind.

If Stolas felt it, he didn’t comment on it; instead, he pulled himself away from you, placing a bottle you failed to notice onto your kitchen table. “Ah yes, I know just the man; made a deal, and it was time to collect-” you pointedly ignore the look on his face “-what was owed. Besides, I was terribly bored, and a new ‘guest’ is always fun.”

You force yourself to stare at the food in the pan, to ignore how goddamn _weird_ Stolas could be. Best friend of three years, and he still spooked the shit out of you sometimes.

“So, Anon~” he begins, as you set his plate down in front of him “do you have any plans for your time off that I _generously_ given you~?” His beak is pulled into that smug smile of his, and you make a show of rolling your eyes at him.

“Probably camping, since I haven’t done that since high school.” You vaguely remember the trip, punctuated by fireworks going wrong and someone accidentally setting their tent on fire.

Nothing said you and your group of friends were the smartest.

“Well, that certainly seems like a good time-” he takes a moment to wipe his beak clean of sauce, his free hand gesturing to your back door “-though it seems rather… silly, when you live on the cusp of the forest already.”

“Which is why I was planning to do it at the state park; my family used to go there when we were kids, so it’ll be… you know, memory lane.”

Stolas gives a thoughtful hum, hand gently stroking under his beak. Whatever you said has him in thought, and you’re kind of worried what he has going on in his h-

“I think I’ll join you, Anon!”

You’re thankful that you manage to catch yourself in time, because you doubt he’d enjoy being on the receiving end of a spit-take. Maybe he would, depending on what the liquid was, once you thought about it; best not to entertain that train of thought.

“Oh don’t give me that look-” the look only gets more intense “-Octavia is helping her friend with that project of hers, the whole hotel business to redeem the damned; I certainly have the time to take a short vacation.”

You don’t ask about Stella. The two had gone separate ways, and despite the expectations of everyone, it had been rather tame. You think it had been tame, considering how Hell was explained to you.

“I mean...” you look at your food, lost in thought. It did sound fun, spending a few days out in the wilderness with him; it would be a change of pace from the standard fare of awful movies you two loved to watch.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was Stolas, and you two would be in public. It wouldn’t surprise you if this short trip ended up getting you condemned to Hell.

Maybe even double Hell, if that was a thing.

“Fine, just… please don’t make it awkward.”

“Marvelous! This is going to be wonderful!” off goes the cork of the wine bottle, and you mentally prepare yourself for taking him out in public.

\-----------

The morning comes with a headache, both from last night’s wine, and the thought of trying actually digging your camping equipment out of the attic. You groan in vain, the light of the sun stabbing into your eyes keeping you from fading back into the clutches of sleep, and eventually you concede to the glowing ball of pain as you get out of bed, onto unsteady feet.

You stumble your way through your morning proceedings, the hot water of your shower feeling like a gift from God as you fight off the lingering dredges of last night’s wine.

It takes a good effort, against the weight settled into your bones, combined with the desire to go back to being a lazy loaf, for you to actually begin the effort to gather what you need for camping.

Your clothes are easy enough, just a few pairs of your everyday wear, followed by basic amenities such as toothpaste and a spare brush. What you dread, however, is the actual camping gear itself, shoved somewhere up there along with whatever neglected furniture the previous owners kept.

The staircase up is a bit ominous, the lighting from your hallway windows succeeding only in making the shadows darker as they go up above. You swallow down your hesitation, making your way upwards; if you can handle dealing with Stolas and I.M.P, you can handle the horrors in your own home.

And so goes your attempt to get everything you need from the musty space.

It takes an hour, a fight against a large web with a spider in it, a few unsavory words that you’re sure you picked up from one of the imps, and the legs of old furniture attempting to remove your toes, but you manage to get everything out and packed for your trip.

The familiar sound of a portal opening lets you know that you finished just in time, and you head downstairs.

Only to nearly trip down the last half of your staircase once you catch sight of Stolas standing in your living room. Shorts that barely go halfway down his thigh, white polo; he looks like a caricature of the preppy rich kid in an 80’s film. At least the camping pack on the floor looks competently put together.

“Ah, there you are. I was worried I’d have to drag you out of bed myself- not many can handle half a bottle of Amanita Sherry!” he seems quite proud, if the smile he’s giving you is any indication; you’re happy he didn’t see you nearly slam your face into your closet door trying to get it open when you woke up.

A few shakes of your head to get focused again- “Yeah, I’m… fine… are you sure you want to wear that for a hike?

A smug grin is all you get in return, and you sigh; there’s never any use with arguing against Stolas, damn bird is more stubborn than you are. “Okay, so-” you gesture vaguely to his entire self “how are you going to hide the fact that you’re a demonic bird?”

“Simple, like this!”

A snap of his fingers, a blur of magic smoke, and-

It’s still Stolas, your dumbass avian friend, standing there.

“...did it fail?” You’re not sure what’s going on, but you doubt it was supposed to be a distraction spell. “No, it worked quite fine. Can’t you see how _human_ I look~?” He gives you a look, and under any other circumstances you’re sure you’d be feeling heat rushing to your face.

“Stolas, you’re still a giant bird demon.”

A pout “Feh, I should have known it wouldn’t have worked on you… never-the-less, it is time for us to go camping!” and with the excitable energy of a child, he picks up his pack and bounds out the front door, leaving you to shake your head as you head out back to grab your hatchet.

“At least put your pack in the trunk, Stolas!”

\-----------

Stolas was, for lack of better terms, a curious child; or maybe a puppy, if you really thought about it. Despite his age over you, he resorted to asking you all sorts of questions.

“How often has that clock tower been repaired?”

“Do the birds here often roost like that?”

“Have you had any public executions in town recently?”

The last one, after a moment of shock, had resulted in you questioning him about the legal practices in Hell. The conversation lasted the two hours you had left of the drive, and by the time you pulled into the parking lot, you didn’t want to even think about jaywalking.

“So this is a ‘state park’, it’s rather… controlled, compared to the forest you live in.” He’s eagerly looking around, some sort of awe in his eyes “No threats of bone-thieves or gore-mongers, I assume~?” he asks, teasing, as he takes his pack out of your hands.

“No, we don’t- Stolas what the fuck is wrong with Hell?”

He laughs, waving your concern off as he begins walking ahead, interested in the large plaque embedded in the stone statue in the center of the… you weren’t sure, actually. Courtyard?

You’d ask one of the forest rangers, but that train of thought comes to a halt when you realize that the grounds are pretty empty of people. A family at the picnic tables, a lone lady dressed in an athletic suit, and then Stolas, absorbed in the inscription in front of him.

The park was empty, and it felt…

Wrong.

Like the life of the park you once knew had been nearly snuffed, left as little more than a flickering ember in the dying coals of a campfire. You can still see the park in your head, from your time here as a child, how busy and full of life it was. The flowers, the head ranger waving to the kids as he rode by on his patrol cart. The shouting of you and your brothers as you argued over which trail to take first, who would be able to find the coolest walking stick-

“ANON, HURRY!” Stolas calling to you snaps you out of your depressing train of thought. He’s standing in front of a trail, the faded paint on the sign leaving a barely legible “Owl Trail” to be read, and you jog to catch up to him.

“Sorry, I got lost in nostalgia...” a sheepish smile, and he laughs, taking your hand in his as he pulls you forward down the dirt path. It’s a simple path, with the last bloom of summer barely hanging onto the bushes, the leaves in the trees a gradient of green to brown. It’s a simplistic sight, but it’s refreshing in itself.

The path under your feet slopes and curves and winds itself through trees that create canopies and dancing patterns of shadows on the ground, and you find yourself just lost in the moment.

“-and that’s how the Hemillia Rose blooms on the full moon!”

Stolas, once he had gotten enough curiosity of the human world out of his system, decided that to make up for the lack of rare flora in the park by regaling you of facts of long-extinct flowers.

“It’s a lovely flower, and I do take the utmost care to feed it blood every midnight on the dot.” though considering who Stolas is, you’re not surprised to find out he actually has those plants himself, still alive and blooming.

“This flower drinks blood, on midnight exactly, in order to live?”

“Yes, it’s quite the specimen. Such a shame that only one-thousand can live at a time. As soon as another blooms, the oldest dies, to keep that number.” A rather somber flower, you guess. Makes sense that Octavia is trying to care for one. “I’m proud of my little owlet, for all the effort she’s putting into growing hers.”

“So, how IS Octavia doing, anyway?”

“She’s doing wonderfully, despite the messy… proceedings, Stella and I have had-” a grimace, quickly replaced by a smile “-but that’s not important now. This is a vacation, Anon, so no depressing topics.” a wag of his finger, though you can tell he’s serious with the look in his eyes.

“Fair enough” you give a dramatic sigh, doing your best to make it as hammy as possible “It’s just that I wanted to hear about my bestest bird friend in the whole world and underworld though… but if you’re so against me asking...”

There’s a second of silence before a soft impact bounces off your head, a pine-cone landing on the ground some feet away.

“Oh hush you-” he chides, and you laugh. “You are an absolute menace, I swear.” but he laughs, and soon enough you come to a clearing off the beaten path. There’s a flat, barren dirt patch, and you can still see the imprint of your firepit from all those years ago.

“This is it, the best camping spot in the entire park-”

“Which only took us an hour of hiking to reach~”

“Quiet, you overgrown seagull.”

The next few hours go by fast. Clearing up rocks and debris from the ground comes first, before you begin helping Stolas set up his tent- “ _No, you need to put the rod in the sleeve first” “Are you offering~” “Damn it, Stolas”-_ followed by an attempt to collect firewood- _“Take off that jacket and shirt so I can have a good show, Anon~”-_ so it’s night time before you know it, a healthy campfire ablaze in the old pit.

Stolas is, for some reason, enamored with the marshmallow he has held in the campfire. The concept of a s’more was foreign in hell to those, as he put it, ‘native borne’, so you knew what you had to do.

“Oh this is so much fun~!”

Your own marshmallow sits snugly inside the chocolate trap in your hands, lightly toasted to perfection, and you watch as Stolas brings his flaming treat out to extinguish. You don’t know how he liked them burnt, but with that being his fourth in the span of two minutes, you aren’t going to judge him.

“Yeah, my brothers and I loved doing it when we were younger… lots of memories out in this clearing; staring at the stars, catching fire-flies...” the fire snaps and crackles as you stare into it.

“This place used to be full of life, you know… families were everywhere, with kids playing horseshoes and Rangers teaching classes on wildlife...” the faint sting of nostalgia burns your eyes, and you force it back. “Shame to see this place was so empty, I guess.”

You don’t see the look on Stolas’ face, but you do feel the warmth of him as he scoots on the log over to your side. “It’s certainly not your fault; times change, and the value placed on things tends to fade over time. However, with those like you who cherish the memories, nothing is every truly forgotten.”

A finger comes to poke your nose, and you shake your head as he laughs.

“Speaking of the Stars, would you like to hear about them?” You catch the hint of softness in his features; this is something close to him, you realize, a special moment for him. Something comforting to replace those depressing thoughts.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“Wonderful! Oh this is so much lovelier with the actual stars above us-” he sits up, a hand pointed to the clear sky above “-those there form Orion’s belt, though some may know it as ‘The Three Kings’, or even ‘The Three Sisters’-” as he begins his ‘lesson’, you can’t help but get drawn into how story-like he makes everything, and before you know it you’re resting against his side, eyes wide to the stars as he spins you their tales.

It’s just the two of you out there, in the firelight of a slowly dying campfire, oblivious to the world around you, from the sound of crickets, to the snapping of branches just beyond the treeline.

\-----------

You wake up before Stolas does the next morning, the grass damp with morning dew as you carefully climb out of your tent. There’s a thin mist in the air, and you stretch as you lazily pull your jacket out of your tent, sliding on your shoes, before grabbing your camera as you begin your walk.

Careful steps over fallen logs, under hanging branches and a stick to knock down a spiderweb or two. A walk off of a trail, through the ‘untamed’ nature of the forest; you were heading towards something you remembered from years ago

A river is nearby, the quiet sounds of running water filling your ears as you reach the edge of the treeline, and you freeze once you step out into the open.

There’s a deer on the other side of the river, standing just in front of the opposing treeline across the water, and you bring your camera up. It’s a good shot; there’s little movement and all is quiet, so there’s practically no chance for it to startle. You fiddle with the camera settings, zooming in to get a better picture.

And you feel your blood turn to ice.

It’s not a deer. The body is wrong, too long, the front legs too short- too stumpy _too twisted_ , and the backlegs are too long and thin, as if pulled by a taffy machine. And the head is wrong, lopsided with what you think are horns growing from where the ears should be. It looks like something tried to create a deer from words alone.

Then the head turns, yellow eyes stare into you, into your soul, and it _begins to stand on two legs_.

You feel your heart stop beating.

The creature takes a step.

_Run_

Then another.

_RUN_

Your legs obey, and you turn to rush into the forest once more.

You can hear it cry out, a mixture of rage and a primal scream, an unholy mess of human and animal and _something_ , and you cover your ears in desperation as you barrel through the treeline, uncaring of anything except to get back to camp. To get back to safety. To get back to Stolas.

The snapping of branches begins a bit behind you, once you’ve gotten a fair distance into the trees. It’s deafening as you push forward, even as you begin to outpace it, fading further and further behind you until all you can hear is your own panicked steps.

You risk a look behind you, to see if you’re being chased, once you reach the treeline of your camp’s clearing. There’s nothing behind you, other than a trail of broken branches and snapped saplings in your wake. You break the treeline, still focused on the thing chasing you.

Then you slam into something full-force and nearly topple over, barely held up by whatever you ran into.

“Anon, are you alright?” a feathered hand on your face, another hooked under your arm “Why are you running?”

A burning in your lungs as you finally realize just how hard you pushed yourself; a struggle as you try your damnedest to get enough air into your lungs to respond. You force yourself to stand, reaching out to grab onto him to steady yourself, to keep from falling onto the wet grass.

“T-thing… deer… n-not a deer… holy fuck...”

You only realize how hard you’re shaking when he forcefully grabs your shoulders and makes you take a seat on a stump. Your knuckles are white, hands gripping the camera so tight you’re surprised it hasn’t cracked and shattered to pieces.

A twig snaps, and you feel your head snapping to the source so fast it hurts. A shape stands there, brown and bipedal, and it steps forward out of the shade.

A deer, barely more than a fawn.

“Anon, whatever you saw out there isn’t real” you can feel his eyes boring into you, and you can barely force yourself to turn and meet them. Concern fills them, and you suddenly feel really, really stupid. “It was just a deer, nothing to be scared of…”

Just a deer… “A… deer...”

The words feel hollow, a cold tingle in your spine as you feel your instincts screaming at you. _Dangerous. DANGEROUS._

_Need to leave need to leave need to leave need-_

“That’s right, just a deer… you simply had a waking nightmare, Anon. Left over from getting up as early as you did.”

His words feel like hollow reassurance, but you swallow hard and nod anyway. It was just a deer, nothing to be scared of. It was just… warped by the fact you were still half asleep, nothing actually dangerous.

So why were your instincts screaming at you so loudly?

“Now… I believe you wanted to show me this waterfall?” he holds his hand out to you, and instinctively you take it. Stolas would keep you safe; he was a prince of hell, he would protect you from anything, if there really was something after you.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s this way, I’ll show you.”

The nagging feeling in the back of your mind, the chill in your spine, the horribly scream that bounced around in your head; all of that faded as you spent time in the park with Stolas, showing him little areas of interest that you used to visit as a child.

The roaring waterfall drowned out your thoughts, leaving you in the moment, silencing the voices in the back of your mind.

“ _Someone went over it in a wooden box, a few years back.”_

“ _Rather strange, was it forced?”_

“ _I think he was drunk and took a dare.”_

The laughter as the baby ducks in the pond swarmed Stolas warmed the chill in your spine. and his hand in yours kept your fear at bay, well past the sun’s peak as it slowly began its descent.

“And this is the watchtower that we always climbed; it doesn’t actually give the rangers inside much extra vision, so they just left it alone.” you grab the old wooden railing, one foot pressing down on the ivy-covered step to test if it would hold. It groans in protest, but it holds sturdy, and with your free hand you beckon as you begin your ascent to the top.

“And these were designed to help those that were lost in these woods...”

“Yeah, they’ve got flood lights on them, bright and all that.” you gesture to the black shape mounted on the corner of the railing once you get to the top. “I doubt the bulbs still work, but you could swivel them around and flash them a few times so hikers could see your location and work their way towards you”

“Why Anon, if you wanted flashing, you could have just asked-” you push the bird’s face away once he leans over your shoulder, laughing as you shove open the door to the actual tower office. The faded red paint is chipped and cracked, flaking onto the ground. Old books sit on a shelf while an old map of the park is pinned on half of a cork-board.

“We used to spend hours up here, pretending to be a team of heroes protecting the people in the woods.” you spot a pair of binoculars on the desk against the window, an old radio sits derelict and broken beyond repair. You grab them, looking them over, before holding them to your eyes.

“We used to have our own pair of binoculars when were were younger, these plastic red ones-” you look at the edge of the lake through them, watching as ducks begin waddling into the water. “-and we used to take turns switching out who was the leader of our team-” you spot your camp, the ashen remains of last night’s fire sitting idly in the pit. “-and since I was the oldest, I was usually the one in charge-” you spot the deer creature dragging the jogger from yesterday by her leg.

You jump backwards, stumbling over your feet as you slam into the table behind you, papers scattering onto the floor; A hand grabs under your arm, pulling you to your feet as you begin shaking like a leaf. “No, no it’s not- no no no no” The binoculars press to your eyes again, and you watch, helplessly, as the creature drags the lady towards a cave, barely visible beyond the trees.

“Anon, what’s wro-” you shove the binoculars into his hand before he even finishes his sentence. “T-the thing, deer, cave, holy fuck it was real” you can feel the chill strike you full-force, your heart beginning to pound in your ears as you take it in. You shove against the table again, trying to get around it to look at the map, and the sound of something clattering onto the ground catches your attention.

A survival knife, unrusted and blade sharp. It was left here recently, you realize, and the pounding in your ears grows louder as your eyes roam to some of the papers on the floor.

” **MISSING: CAROL VA-”**

” **MISSING: MA-K HAN-”**

” **MISSI--: FR--- HA---”**

The pounding in your ears turns to white noise as the pieces of a puzzle begin to slam home inside your head. The lack of people in the park yesterday, the absence of so many rangers, the thing from this morning.

This wasn’t the first time it happened.

It could have happened to you, this morning, if you didn’t spot it first. There’s a bundle of nausea in your stomach as it sinks in; the fact that you could have been taken by that creature, with Stolas none the wiser.

You can’t just let it keep happening.

“StolAs-” a crack in your voice “-we need to tell the rangers, we need to- we have to- this needs to stop, we gotta do something.” He doesn’t respond, and when you look to him, you see his face frozen in an expression you can’t read. His upper eyes are frozen wide, and you can barely make out something you wish you didn’t see in them.

Fear.

You grab the knife, grip on the handle so tight you can already see your knuckles turning white.

‘ _he’s afraid, why is he afraid he shouldn’t be afraid why why why why’_

You look around, eyes no doubt wild as you desperately try to find something that makes sense of the situation. The map against the wall has markings littering it, with large red Xs and arrows, old polaroid photos tacked on different parts. Messy scrawl covers the edges, things you can barely read through your growing nerves.

“ **BOATS NOT USED - - NOT IN LAKE”**

“ **PIT FOR BLOOD?”**

“ **RANGERS- - - - “**

You barely take enough time to loop the knife’s holster to your pants before you barrel out of the tower office, the stairs taken three at a time as the adrenaline in your body pushes you to move faster, instinct guiding your steps

‘ _The rangers can fix this’_ echoes your mind. They were the authority in the park, they could help.

You hear Stolas call out to you, the words lost behind the wind in your ears as you descend, followed by the faint sound of a portal being torn open, but you pay it no mind.

Because the blood in your ears is deafening as you run, each thought in your head suppressed by the one driving you forward.

_Get the Rangers, make this end_

_Get the Rangers, make this end_

_Get the Rangers, make this end_

And you don’t stop running, even as you stumble over rocks and roots, barely catching yourself long enough to keep pushing forward. Your shadow begins to grow as the sun behind you starts to make its proper descent beyond the trees, the light of day slowly being replaced by the dark of night.

By the time you reach the Ranger Station, the sun is halfway behind the trees, the edges of your vision are blacking out, your heart is threatening to shatter your rib-cage.

And the door to the station is wide open.

The knife is drawn and in your hands before you even realize what you’re doing, and as you slowly make your way through the door, legs shaking, you can’t help but think about just how _goddamn stupid_ you’re being by just walking in.

You’re lucky though, because the main room is empty. It’s devoid of anything that would give it the appearance of being lived in, just furniture that one would expect without anything else; there are no papers pinned to the message board, there are no papers on the front desk, nothing that would suggest the place had even been used since it was created.

Had the Rangers, all those years ago, even been real?

The sound of something falling over from the next room nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and your grip on the knife tightens. Slowly, like a child past bedtime, you begin you creep towards the office door; it’s slightly ajar, and you can hear the sound of someone looking for _something_ inside, so carefully you begin to push it open.

“Those damnable idiots, making deals with those… wretched bastards-”

Stolas stands in the middle of the room, going through a pile of paper with so much spite that you’re afraid to even enter the room.

“-beyond the veil, cannot even begin to understand… argh!”

He slams his hands down onto the table, curled into fists with a letter clenched tight between his fingers, papers flying off and onto the floor. He looks up as you step towards him, his eyes locking with yours.

“Anon, there is something important you must do. Come with me!” without missing a beat, he marches around the desk and heads out the door, and you move to follow him before freezing.

There’s a gun safe in the corner of the room, and you can make out the keys hanging from the lock, so you make your way over to it, grabbing the jangling key-chain.

With a twist and pull, the door opens, and an old hunting rifle falls out and smacks against your leg. You reach down, picking up the relic as you feel the weight in your hands. It looks like it hasn’t been used in a while, but as you work the bolt and look the action over, you realize it’ll still work just fine.

Images of the thing in the woods flashes in your mind, and you heft the gun up, so that the rifle is slung over your shoulder as you reach into the box of rounds inside the safe, shoving a handful into your pocket.

It’s hard to tell how many you’re going to need, but there should be more than enough.

You hope.

A loud honk blares from outside, and as you stumble over your feet to get outside, you’re greeted by Stolas sitting in the driver’s seat of what looks like a glorified golf cart. How he got the keys, you’ll never know.

“Get in”

There’s no room to argue, the command in his voice making you listen before you can even think about choosing to follow his orders. You’re barely seated before he slams on the gas, the cart lurching forward as you two begin driving back into the forest.

“There’s something you need to know, Anon-” he doesn’t look at you, eyes forward and full of intent for something. “Whoever is responsible for this, has been making deals; deals that have a cost much greater than anything you’d ever find in Hell.”

“What do you mean?”

He doesn’t look at you, but you don’t need to see his eyes to understand- “You humans normally calls them ‘Old Gods’, all those frivolous stories about your fragile minds being shattered and abused.” something feels stuck in your throat, and it’s hard to swallow- “There was a pact made with them recently, Anon, and you need to be the one to break it.”

It takes a few seconds for his words to process, your body growing rigid as it hits- “Wait, what the fuck do you mean that I have to fix this?”

“Heaven and Hell may be opposing sides, Anon, but they are not the only parties involved in mortal affairs. This is a third one, and any intervention from either party could result in rather… unpleasant surprises.” you break through the treeline, the moon’s light offering just enough to make the outline of the cave out.

“You, Anon, are the neutral party in all this. You’ve got no magic in your body, no great houses to your name, no standing with any side, regardless of our own relationship.” the cart skids to a stop, the cave entrance looming in front of you two like a hungry beast, waiting to end your lives once you enter.

“The only one who can fix this, is you.”

The shake in your legs makes it hard to stand, once you get out of your seat, but you refuse to let it stop you. Footsteps make their way towards you, Stolas coming to stand beside you, hand on your shoulder as he gives you a reassuring squeeze. “However, I will not leave you alone in this. I may not be able to directly intervene against them, but I can stand by your side.”

You don’t look at him, but you nod, swallowing hard as you try to force your nerves to listen to you. “I trust you, Stolas...” He doesn’t respond, but you can see the small smile curving his beak. “Well, lets… you know, get this over with.”

Your feet are heavy, the weight of fear making you drag them, but you manage to force yourself to begin walking into the dark abyss within. An orange glow hangs faintly in the distance, once you get inside, and slowly the two of you begin making your way towards it.

“Is… there anything you know about this… whatever the fuck, from this morning?” You hope he knows, to ease the growing voices in the back of your mind, telling you to turn around and flee.

“Unfortunately, I do not-” hints of regret “-however, I can at least confirm that a human is behind it, so this won’t be impossible for you to overcome.”

So, it really was the work of a Ranger. One of the faces from your memories, donned in uniform, was responsible for what could potentially end the lives of so many people; HAD ended the lives of so many people.

The hunting rifle in your hands feels a lot heavier.

Silence takes over as you two reach the orange light, a torch shoved haphazardly into what looks like a mining cave support beam. The tunnel branches off to the side, rows of torches embedded in the walls as it leads off into a large room, lit up by bonfires off to the sides.

You can make out two figures in the room, one collapsed on the ground while the other stands above her. You don’t need to be close enough to recognize the uniform. Nor for the gleam of the knife in his hands.

Your body moves in instinct, and you find yourself running forward. It’s almost guaranteed to be a suicidal charge, but you only realize that once you’re in the room completely.

Immediately the smell of blood assaults you, stomach flipping as you force down your body’s growing desire to vomit. Skulls and bones, piled to the sides of the room, a pit with blood in the center, separating you from the man responsible for this.

You don’t know how long he stares at you, how long you stand there, the smell of blood and iron permeating the air. The cold feeling settles into your spine, instincts warning you- _dangerdangerDANGERDANGERRUNRUN-_ but you stay rooted to the spot, as the old man looks at you.

His eyes as yellow as the creature’s from this morning.

Slowly, a grin begins to carve itself into his face, teeth replaced by fangs as it opens, and you automatically take a step back.

There’s a godawful crack, and his head snaps to rotate upside down, and you can only watch in horror.

His body begins to spasm, the knife falling to the ground as his arms begin to snap, the bones beneath the skin shifting as he changes. His head begins to change, a malformed bone piercing through the skin on his head; a sick mockery of horns, covered in the gore from his skin.

There’s the screaming cry of a roar from this morning, echoing through the caves as his yellow eyes stare into you, into your soul, through you and into your very being.

And it’s silenced by the loud, echoing bang that deafens you.

Your ears ring, your own thoughts deafened by the noise. The rifle in your hands barely shakes, drawn up before you could stop yourself. The ranger’s body falls to the floor, mid-transformation as you watch it lie still. It doesn’t move proper, little twitches as something changes inside the corpse, and a shudder goes down your spine as you recall what you did.

The cold, lifeless eyes that stared into you as it fell.

Gore spraying from the impact of the bullet.

How the body fell to the ground, a marionette with its strings cut.

The rifle falls from your hands as you keel over, body shaking as you vomit onto the ground. The pounding in your head worsens as the ringing in your ears fade, replaced by the hammering of your heartbeat.

_You killed someone_

Once more you heave, the taste burning your throat as tears prick your eyes.

_You took someone’s life, you monster, you goddamn heartless bastard_

_You didn’t have a choice-_ you tell yourself, _you had to do it_. Your body took the action before you could, instincts guiding you. It was the only thing you could have done.

_Liar. You murderous liar._

The shaking lasts long after the bile stops, yet you lay slumped on the ground, trying so hard- so very hard- to pick yourself back up. It’s only when the sound of footsteps stop beside you that you finally move.

A hand finds its way to your shoulder, and slowly you’re pulled to your feet. There’s no words between you and Stolas as you shove yourself into his arms, face pressed into his chest as the dam breaks inside you. Hot tears spill into his shirt, into his feathers as you sob, the muffled sound making you feel weak.

“It’s okay, you’ve done what you needed; just let it out” a hand runs through your hair, stroking gently as he consoles you. A soft cooing as he just holds you, the warmth feeling like a stab to the heart.

You feel like a monster.

You took someone’s life.

You didn’t deserve to feel cared for.

“Listen to me.” his voice is soft, but firm “You did what you had to do. Your life was in danger, and you did what would keep you safe and alive; you did what saved her life-” he gestures to the collapsed form of the jogger.

“I’m proud of you, Anon” his hand comes to rest on your cheek, fingers gently wiping away the tears. “So never feel like your actions make you a monster.”

A swallow, nerves and bile and hate for yourself, shoved down as far as you can get them.

“Okay… y-yeah, okay...”

A smile, eyes lighting up with warmth as he moves a hand to take your own, slowly walking you to back down the cave shaft you came from. “Don’t worry about the lady, I had made a call while you handled the… issue.”

Echoing footfalls become muffled in the grass as you two step outside, and you feel your body begin to give up as you collapse into the passenger seat. A shift of weight jostles you as the driver’s seat is filled, and you can feel his eyes on you.

“I… I’m sorry for this Anon, I truly am, but it’s better for you to know now than it would be to keep it hidden from you until tomorrow.” You want to look at him, but a piece of paper is held in front of your eyes. The letter from the station, with curled letters and words.

_Five rituals----_

_\----wake the god----_

_\---remove ---- --- world_

_\---purge-----_

_\---Halloween---_

There’s a growing sense of dread in your chest as you continue to read, the despair in your heart beginning to consume you.

Five rituals.

Five different rituals, to bring about an Old God to end all life as you knew it.

And you only had until the end of the month to keep it from happening.

“I know pushing it onto you now is rather harsh of me, but you’re the only one wh-”

“I’ll do it”

His stunned silence gives you the opening you need. “You said-” _swallow your fear_ “-that I was a neutral party, and that you couldn’t… get involved with it.”

Memories flash before your eyes. You and your brothers, playing tag though the park. A ragtag group of high school students doing stupid shit late at night, in the football field at school. Those weekends you’d spend with the strange owl demons from hell.

The memories of a life that you didn’t want to be taken from you.

“I won’t let it win...”

His face studies yours, eyes looking into yours for something. Conviction, perhaps? Or maybe a sign that you were already off the deep end into the abyss of insanity. But he smiles, small and warm, hand coming up to ruffle your hair. “And I believe you can do it.”

There’s a slow rumble as the cart starts, heading back towards where your camp is; but you’re already claimed by sleep within a minute, stress from the day pulling you under.

Your dreams are filled of uncertainty.

Shambling terrors that twist their form.

Gaping maws that bite and chew, desires to rend your flesh.

Tendrils that reach and grab for you, to pull you into the void.

But none of that matters, to you. None of it drives you into fear, into damnable madness like in the stories you’ve read.

Because an imp couple flashes by, the sound of music and laughter as they perform in your living room.

Because a young owl girl takes their place, joy in her eyes as she happily shows off some taxidermy creature to you.

Because your brothers pose beside you for a picture, smiling as if nothing in the world could ruin the happiness you shared.

Because you’ve got your best friend by your side; the goofy prince of hell who went from intimidating, to be someone you could count on for anything.

They’re your reason to do this, why you can shake off the mess of voices in your head telling you to ‘ _stop you can’t do this you’ll die die die die die die’._

You’re going to make a difference, Old Gods be damned.

**Author's Note:**

> Had plans for this to originally be a long story with multiple 'rituals' referencing urban legends and the like, then I realized I have literally nothing properly planned out past the first stage. So uh, yeah. Local failure of a writer fails to actually plan out a story, more at 11 with stories such as "Water is Wet" and "Blitzo is irredeemable".
> 
> Honestly I may write more for this and turn it into a proper thing, who knows. I think it'd be fun. Aside from wanting to rewrite everything from scratch.


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